


Auger de Statera Iudiciius

by hoziest (sol1t41r3)



Series: Mythos AU [3]
Category: BoBoiBoy (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Mythos AU, solar purposefully lets man die so he can become his vassal rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sol1t41r3/pseuds/hoziest
Summary: What do you remember?He asked.Supra looks up, shaken at the sight of creation."I remember it all."
Series: Mythos AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016425
Kudos: 7





	Auger de Statera Iudiciius

Supra has never done anything remarkable in his life. In fact, his life was the epitome of mundane.  
  
He lives an average life, working an average job in a city where no one knows that he exists.  
  
Well, _existed._  
  
See, that night, he working a late shift at the printing company, forced to fill in for the hours his colleague had missed. It wasn't entirely bothersome, the only issue was the storm that rolled in just when he was going to clock out.  
  
Supra frowned and inwardly cursed his terrible luck.  
  
He had not an umbrella, or anything of the sort to shield himself from the weather. So he waited it out by the building's entrance.  
  
Usually, he didn't wait or fool around after work. Straight home was his routine, not bothering to socialize because _what good would it be?_  
  
However, here he was. Standing mere inches from the rain that roared against the brick-laden streets.  
  
Supra shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, keeping his wits about himself as he stared down either way of the street. No carriages, no black umbrellas, not a single soul in sight.  
  
It felt like he was the only man left in the world.  
  
The only source of light was from a rather small church just down the street. Its doors still wide open at this late hour.  
  
He thought twice about going. One wouldn't describe Supra as a religious man, he's never listened to the sermons or prayed to any certain god. People could believe what they believed, but he preferred to stay out of such matters.  
  
But staying in the dark would do him no good, without a doubt, he'd attract a few thieves being out and alone like this.  
  
So he hurried along the sidewalk, ducking under cover when provided and keeping a cautious hand over his back pocket, where he kept his penknife, just in case. (Though so far, he's never had to wield it.)  
  
He paused at the doors, peeking inside the chapel to search for signs of life.  
  
The flickering flames of the candles seemed to be the only things moving.  
  
Supra sighed as he took off his hat, shaking it and holding it to his chest. It was positively soaked.  
  
His glasses too had fogged up, he wiped the lens with his handkerchief.  
  
Looking around, he sees that the prayer hall really was empty. With several rows of church pews in the center seemingly set out for no reason than to gain dust. At the far end of vast space was the lonely altar, where croaky old priests repeated the words of greater men.  
  
What caught his eye was the area left of the altar; where seven statues stood on elevated pedestals. Those idols, he'd never seen them at the church he went to as a child.  
  
Seeing as the rain had no intention of stopping, Supra thought it wouldn't hurt to investigate further.  
  
He walked down the left aisle, his own footsteps trailing after him, echoing through the groaning structure. Thunder rumbled from outside, as if displeased.  
  
"Harbinger... of Light..." Supra read from the plaque fastened on the central figure's pedestal, "Some title..."  
  
The being entitled by the plaque stood taller than the rest, donning flowing robes akin to a dress. In his right hand was a staff with a globe adorning the top, his left hand was tucked behind him.  
  
He wasn't terribly impressed. The quality of work was mediocre at best, it wasn't something to gawk at.  
  
Supra fixed his glasses, squinting at the other statues. Arranged in a semi-circle, fanned out at either side of the Harbinger of Light. Standing in the center unsettled him, as their wooden gazes felt transfixed on him, watching his every move.  
  
They all looked similar, each bearing the same features as the others, differing in clothing and accessories.  
  
One statue that he took interest in was the one at Harbinger of Light's right side.  
  
His gaze was the most serious, a fierce expression that reminded Supra of the look his father gave him whenever he was disappointed. A face that said _Do Better._ And Supra did, wiping away tears and dusting off scraped knees.  
  
Out of all the statues, he was the only one with a weapon, a sheathed sword at his hip, its handle intricately carved and varnished. Unlike the robed statues, he wore armor over his, with an animal pelt cape draped over his shoulders.  
  
_Judge of the Wicked._  
  
Supra half-snorted, "These titles are so serious that they sound silly. Can't they have come up with something better?"  
  
"And what exactly would _you_ suggest?"  
  
He whipped around at the sudden voice.  
  
"I see you've taken interest the Unserum."  
  
"Ah—I, I was only looking around."  
  
The man laughed, "It is no harm to look around. Curiositas, it is a wonderful motivation."  
  
Supra pressed his hat against his chest, unsure of what to do.  
  
"What do you know of the gods?" The stranger cocked his head.  
  
"The gods?" Supra muttered, "I don't involve myself in religion."  
  
"I see, a pair of fresh eyes. A skeptic is one whose thoughts are open to every possibility," the man nodded, "I admire that."  
  
"Most people don't."  
  
"They don't?"

Supra hesitated at the curious expression on the other's face, not a trace of offense was present.  
  
"If you don't believe the same things they do, they cast you out."  
  
"As they do... humans demand to be in the right of things, even if it divides them."  
  
"That's why I don't involve myself."  
  
Another series of nods, "I see. An anomaly. But what if I were to tell you that it was all real? Truly and wholeheartedly real?"  
  
"...The gods?" Did he call them Unserum? Supra didn't recall such a term.  
  
"The pantheon. Every single story of myth."  
  
"How can I believe without hard evidence?"  
  
"That is for you to find out." The man's gray eyes twinkled in the candle light.  
  
Supra shuffled his feet at the knowing look, he felt as if he were being scrutinized. He despised the feeling, knowing less than someone else. This man seemed so confident.  
  
"The storm will pass soon, do not fret. You'll be home in time for the last train."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
As the man smiled, Supra thought he looked oddly familiar. From a distant memory, or a dream.  
  
"Have we met before?" He blurted out, surprised at his own question. It felt as if his tongue had been pulled, his mouth moving of its own volition.  
  
"Do you think so?" replied the man.  
  
"I'm... not sure. Perhaps not."  
  
"I didn't think you the man to give up so easily," he said.  
  
"Who are you to judge?" Supra replied defensively, "I don't know what man you are."  
  
"That's fair. Yet to settle for the easy answer is to discredit yourself. Why not wonder? Think beyond reason and doubt? Or does the uncertainty intimidate you into fear?"  
  
Supra's eyes narrowed, he wondered if this was the beginnings of a sermon. The man looked particularly priestly, however the orange was in bad taste. He looked... unique to say the least.  
  
"I know where the borders of logic and madness meet. I have never seen you before," Supra firmly replied, "I couldn't have met you."  
  
"What makes you so sure?"  
  
"...A gut feeling."  
  
"Hah, a gut feeling, indeed. You _are_ quite intriguing yourself," the man mused, "it's a shame... you never lived up to your full potential."  
  
"Excuse me?" Supra frowned.  
  
"You will understand in time. You will understand everything there is to know," the man nodded to himself.  
  
At this point... he was speaking nonsense. Had Supra run into a madman?  
  
"For now, we must end, as all things do," said the robed stranger, he linked his hands behind his back, "we'll have enough time to converse soon."  
  
"Enough time?"  
  
"The rain's stopped," the man said as he looked up, "although... you won't reach the train now."  
  
Supra looked towards the chapel doors. He was right, the rain had stopped. And strangely, he saw crowds of people milling about, as if the street wasn't empty minutes ago.  
  
...How much time had passed?  
  
"If you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now—" Supra glanced to where the man was, only to discover that he had gone.  
  
Instead, scattered amongst the pews were people, some kneeling. A lone priest was at the altar, murmuring words of scripture. The thick scent of incense filled his lungs from burnt sticks left in holders at the feet of the wooden statues.  
  
Had he... imagined all that?  
  
Impossible... it felt too real. Was it actually real...?  
  
Supra pinched the bridge of his nose. He truly was exhausted, he had to go home as soon as possible.  
  
He looked up one last time, and his eyes set on the statue of the Harbinger of Light once again. A strange sensation tugging at his own soul as he looked at the immortalized image.  
  
And he rushed to the train station.  
  
On his way there, he heard a strangled scream. Supra faltered in his pace as he looked around, and saw a young woman with her hair in the hands of a dark figure.  
  
A sense of adrenaline spiked within him as his hand immediately went to his back pocket—  
  
—but his penknife wasn't there...?  
  
_Do Better._ His father had once said, his steel gaze as sharp as the blade that Supra was missing.  
  
_I haven't done enough to be better._  
  
He didn't know if stupidity fueled him, or the adrenaline. Either way... he decided.  
  
"Hey!" He ran towards the alley, "Hey! Let her go!"  
  
The figure looked at him, and the woman broke away from his grasp.  
  
To his surprise, the perpetrator started running towards him with the glint of silver in his shadowy hand. He fell onto the ground, wrestling the man with difficulty, his trenchcoat caught in a mess of limbs.  
  
The man grunted as Supra's knee collided with his stomach, and the switchblade fell out of his hand.  
  
Regaining his stance, Supra reached for the knife and as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the heated metal, the contraption shook and grew heavier.  
  
He stood, and the blade grew longer, the handle adjusting to his grip.  
  
"W-what the—" the man trembled, scrambling away from him.  
  
He looked down and saw why.  
  
The pocketknife he was holding had turned into a full length sword, gleaming under the streetlamps with a hunger. In his hands, it weighed perfectly.

Its handle was similar—no... it was the same as the sheathed sword on the Judge of the Wicked's statue.  
  
Supra did the natural thing.  
  
The man let out a wail as he collapsed, gasping as he clutched at the blade that sunk into his ribcage, into the grooves of the brick road underneath.  
  
He let go of the sword and fell.  
  
It was then that he felt the dampness of his own suit, a bloodied stab wound exposed to air.  
  
Supra looked up at the stars.  
  
_Do Better?_ Had he done so?  
  
That night, Supra _wondered._ Did he rely on the easy answer all his life? Was that why it amounted to nothing?  
  
He closed his eyes and dreamt.  
  
_Ah, that's quite unfortunate, isn't it? Life is so fragile._  
  
The same man from the church—no... the Harbinger of Light—he stood before Supra, his eyes glowing with a divine light. He looked the same as his statue, holding a staff in one hand with robes that fluttered around his knees, like writhing snakes.  
  
His true name appeared within Supra's mind, like it had been there all this time. All his life, imprinted in his blood, his soul.  
  
He knew it. He knew it all yet knew so little.  
  
_I've met you before. _He answered.  
  
Solar smiles, he already knew.  
  
_You asked for hard evidence. This is all you need know._  
  
  
The truth is, Supra has done one remarkable thing in his life. No one would remember him for it, but two beings would.  
  
And in his next life, everything he would do, was remarkable.


End file.
